


First Blade

by SkystoneJexel



Series: The Skystone Sword [1]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, Origin Story, The Blood Pact, lumbridge, questfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkystoneJexel/pseuds/SkystoneJexel
Summary: Jexel Luminel, a young resident of Lumbridge and would-be wizard apprentice, finds himself dragged into a quest that will change the course of his life forever. Tasked by a mysterious adventurer with saving his long-time friend Ilona and foiling the plans of a Zamorakian cult, he must wield a blade for the first time ever and put his life on the line to do what is right.





	First Blade

Jexel listened intently to the priest’s sermon, leaning forward slightly in his pew. Father Aereck certainly had a flair for the dramatic, and when he recited stories of saints and heroes, his gaze scanning the congregation as if he were Saradomin himself watching over the faithful and his arms weaving a picture into the air, church suddenly became a lot more bearable.

“Arrav turned to Zemouregal and said ‘The power of prayer gives me strength. My faith is restored, and under your watchful eye, Saradomin, I shall be protected from beasts such as Zemouregal, and he shall be crushed by our combined might!’” The priest slammed a fist into his palm as he uttered the word ‘crushed,’ and his voice soared with a defiant courage that sounded like it very well could have come from Saint Arrav. He told the story of Arrav’s battle against Zemouregal; how he carved his way through a horde of zombies, locked blades with the evil Mahjarrat himself, and how he threw down his legendary shield so that his people could take it up against the undead army of Zemouregal, leaving himself defenseless and forfeiting his life so that others could prevail.

“We remember Arrav for his sacrifice. We remember that his fate was not of his choosing, and we remember him as an example to all of us; for though he was stronger and faster than any other mortal, his strength of spirit and his compassion can be that of any man,” said Aereck, opening his arms towards the congregation. “The Fourth Age has long since passed, and we now enjoy an era of peace and prosperity, but the importance of that lesson has not dulled. Even now, the dark Zamorak holds influence in the world. We may defend our cities and villages from his servants, but the battle is lost if we cannot banish him also from our own hearts. Look to the world around you, children of Saradomin, and ask yourself this: how can you emulate holy Arrav? What can you do in the name of your fellows, your family, and your people? The answer is within each of you; you need only to find it. Ponder this as you return home, and may Saradomin be with you on the path of wisdom.”

As the others departed, Jexel sat still for a moment, a worried look in his blue eyes and an uneasy knot in his stomach. What had the priest meant when he said that Zamorak needed to be banished? Surely that had been done already long ago?

A gentle, yet authoritative voice snapped the young man out of his thoughts. “Jexel, it’s time to head home. Aren’t you coming with me?”

Jexel turned to face the voice’s owner, a middle aged woman whose green eyes watched over him proudly. Despite being a mere farmer, her firm posture and dignified expression gave her a certain elegance and grace that almost made her look like a noblewoman, especially in her church attire: a fine maroon dress with a bonnet covering her curly brown hair. One of her fingers sported a silver and topaz wedding ring, and a necklace of similar make hung close to her heart. “Please give me a few minutes, mother,” the young man replied. “There’s something I’d like to talk to Father Aereck about.”

Lauren nodded to her son and quietly headed for the door. Once all the others had left, Jexel apprehensively approached the old priest, who attentively eyed him from behind a beautiful oak altar.

“How can I be of service to you, my child?” Aereck asked.

Jexel averted his gaze from the priest, glancing at the stained glass window above the altar that depicted a golden star of Saradomin, the sunlight pouring through it and filling the church with a warm, comforting light. “Father, you talked about defending our lands from the servants of Zamorak and banishing from our hearts. Surely there can’t be any Zamorakians here in Lumbridge, can there?”

The priest gave him a warm smile. “I’m glad you asked, my friend. When I spoke of banishing Zamorak from our hearts, I was speaking metaphorically. You must understand that the will of Zamorak holds sway even in the hearts of the people of Saradomin. He is our greed, our chaos, our sin. Through wisdom and compassion, we can banish that influence and live a life in line with the teachings of Saradomin.”

“So it’s just a metaphor? Lumbridge isn’t actually in any danger of being attacked by Zamorakians, is it?” Jexel questioned.

The priest’s smile faded and he paused for a moment before replying. “Of that, I can’t be certain. The agents of Zamorak are insidious and scheming… always trying to find a way to topple everything Saradomin and his chosen have built, but have no fear. The courage and wisdom of the Saradominist people is a strength that the forces of darkness can never hope to match. As long as there are brave men willing to protect us from evil, and as long as we keep faith in Saradomin’s order, in our unity as a people, we will not be overcome.” In truth, there was indeed a family in Lumbridge that Aereck suspected of secretly worshipping Zamorak, but it was not his place to make such accusations, and such misguided people needed compassion and redemption, not condemnation. No good could come of informing the townspeople.

Jexel hung his head low, staring down at the corner. “I’m sorry, father. I know I must seem paranoid. It’s just that… I dread to think of how little use I would be if the Zamorakians did attack. I can’t pick up a sword and fight. I’m not a hero like Arrav… or like my father.” The young man shed a few silent tears as he recalled his late father.

Aereck gently placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “There’s no need to apologize, my child. Fear of the darkness is natural and prudent in all men. It’s true that you are not a warrior, yes, but that’s not what makes a hero. How strong you are matters little. It’s how much strength you are willing to give others that defines a hero. In that regard, you may be more like your father than you realize. I see it in your eyes… the same look that Talumenes often had, Saradomin guide his soul to light. That passion to help others and protect his fellows from harm.”

The young man nodded and met the priest’s gaze, offering a slight smile. He felt unworthy of being compared to his father, a brave and honorable man who had given his life in the service of the duke, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

“Jexel, you are a fine man with a noble heart. I can’t tell you what struggles you may face in your life, but I have faith that you will be able to overcome them,” said the priest.

“You really think so?” Jexel asked.

“My faith in you is as absolute as my faith in Saradomin,” Aereck replied.

“Thank you, father. It is comforting to know that,” said the young man, his smile widening. “I really should get going, though. See you next Essianday!”

The priest returned Jexel’s smile, reciting a blessing as the young man headed for the door. “Go in peace in the name of Saradomin. May his glory shine upon you like the sun.”

~***~

The waters of the River Lum sparkled in the sunlight, clear and blue as the sky above. It was an unusually warm Rintra day, more akin to spring than winter, and Jexel remained warm with only a light, sky-blue vest rather than a coat. Though he was in the commercial district of Lumbridge, with its many technicolor signs hanging above the doors of houses and advertising the shops within, it was Essianday, and that meant it was everyone’s day off save for the duke’s guards. The townspeople took full advantage of such a lovely day to relax and bask in the beauty of the Misthalian countryside, and the chatter of birds and people alike filled the air. Two young boys wielding sticks posed dramatically upon the old stone bridge that gave the town its name, one attempting to imitate the deep, imposing voice of a demon and the other shouting about how the ‘monster’ would not pass. Jexel could likewise faintly hear the laughter of a little girl on the other side of the river attempting to catch a butterfly in her hands.

One of the townspeople sat apart from the rest, however, her purple eyes fixated on a book. She was a pale young woman wearing leather pants, a white shirt, and a blue bodice, with long, slightly spiky brown hair and far too much eyeshadow, sitting in the shade of a beautiful old oak tree by the river as she so often did.

“Reading about magical theory again, Ilona?” Jexel called out as he approached her. “At this rate, you’ll have graduated from the tower before you even start your apprenticeship!” he teased.

“Come on, Jex. It’s not like you don’t have an addiction to reading about lore and history! Besides, the sound of the river helps me focus, and it is quite a lovely day today,” Ilona replied. She barely glanced up from her book, but her smile confirmed that she was indeed glad to see him. “If anything, you should be reading more about magic. Studying at a world-renowned institute of magic isn’t going to be easy…”

“Well, my application was strong enough for the archmage to accept. I’m sure the wizards will be able to teach me the rest,” said Jexel as he took a seat beside the aspiring mage. “Besides, with all the chores my mother gives me, I don’t get much time to read. Always ‘bring me some firewood’ this and ‘catch some crayfish for dinner’ that…” The young man sighed. “I suppose I can’t really blame her… it’s not easy for a widow to do everything herself.”

“I’m sure your mother appreciates your help, even if she is a bit demanding,” Ilona assured her friend. “I must admit, it all seems so daunting. I mean, the Wizards’ Tower… the same school of magic that brought us into the Fifth Age. When the priest talked about Arrav, I couldn’t help but compare the wizards to him. They laid the very foundations of our civilization. They even built our lodestone. That’s quite a legacy to live up to…” she pointed to the circular platform in the center of the town square, its edges glowing with magical glyphs. It was one of only four in all of Misthalin, and the construction of a teleportation lodestone in a small, rural town such as Lumbridge was a rare privilege indeed. A moment later, Ilona placed a bookmark in her book and closed it, staring at its cover, which Jexel could finally see clearly: ‘The Laws and Properties of the Runes of Water, by Archmage Verna, 2nd Edition.’

“They say that nobody is born with magical talent; anyone can learn it if they put in the effort, so unless the wizards have figured out a way to read in their sleep, I’m sure you’ll do fine!” Jexel chuckled.

“Well, they -do- say that the tower’s founders dreamed of a world of magic, so you never know!” Ilona laughed. “Thank you, Jex. You’re always there when I need some encouragement. It really does mean a lot to me…”

The young man smirked proudly. “Well, -someone- has to come to your rescue!”

As the aspiring mage offered a silly smile in response to such a ridiculous image, Jexel heard a voice in the distance calling his name. Turning to face its source, he saw his mother walking towards him, having changed into her work clothes: a leather vest over a maroon tunic and blue pants, her hair held in a bun by two crossed metal sticks.

“Good day, Mrs. Luminel,” said Ilona, giving her a polite wave.

“Hello Ilona. I hope your studies are going well,” Lauren replied. “Jexel, can you collect some logs for the range? I’d do it myself, but I need to water the cabbages.”

“Do I really have to? Essianday is supposed to be a day of rest, isn’t it?” Jexel protested.

“You can waste time with your friend when your chores are done. Now get to it, unless you’d prefer to eat your dinner raw because we don’t have any fuel for the range,” Lauren demanded.

With a sigh, Jexel rose to his feet. “Alright… I’ll get some logs. Sorry Ilona, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“That’s my boy,” said Lauren with a proud smile.

“Bye, Jex. Hope gathering those logs won’t be too much of a bore!” Ilona replied. Jexel offered a wave of farewell in response as he headed home with his mother.

~***~

By the time Jexel had completed his chores, the sun was already setting. As warm as it was, it was still winter, and the light of dusk peeking over the walls of the duke’s castle in the distance bathed the river in red. He approached the old oak tree, rubbing his tired, aching arms, but Ilona wasn’t there. It was quite strange that she wasn’t there… once she opened a book, she normally didn’t stop reading until it was too dark to see the text.

“Ilona?” he called out, his eyes scanning the river to see if she might have wandered off nearby, but she was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she had gone home? As he turned and began his trek towards Ilona’s house, he had hardly taken a step before he almost walked right into an old woman. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

The woman was perhaps somewhere around 60 years old, with long gray hair that was braided on one side and green eyes shining from a wrinkled face that had seen many battles. Her necklace seemed to be a tooth torn from some great beast, and the gilded purple tunic and leather leggings she wore suggested that she might be an adventurer. She was certainly some sort of traveller, as Jexel had never seen her in Lumbridge before. There was a stern look on her face, and she barely seemed to register his apology. “I’m glad you’ve come by. I need some help.”

Jexel sighed, annoyed that he was being dragged into yet another task. “What help do you need?” he asked resignedly.

The stranger’s gaze was severe. “Some cultists of Zamorak have kidnapped a young woman named Ilona and taken her into the catacombs.”

At first, Jexel simply stared back at the stranger open-mouthed. The words had come so suddenly… so harshly… Did he hear her correctly? Was he imagining things? A moment later, the overwhelming gravity of the situation assaulted him, penetrating his mind with a near-physical force. His eyes widened to their limits, and his heart leapt out of his chest with such visceral intensity that it felt as if it would tear itself out. “W-what? No! What are they going to do to her? They’re not going to kill her, are they!?”

“I don’t know what they’re planning, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a tea party,” the old adventurer replied, her voice grim but oddly collected given the situation. “There are three of them, and I’m not as young as I was the last time I was here. I don’t want to go down there without backup.”

“Come on, the duke’s castle is this way! We’ll call the guards to get those bastards!” said Jexel, hastily taking the adventurer’s hand and attempting to lead her on. However, the stranger refused to budge.

“There’s no time. Every second we delay, we risk that woman’s life, now come with me to the catacombs! Here, I have a spare sword for you. I have plenty of runes for battle spells, so I won’t need it,” the adventurer insisted, withdrawing a short bronze blade, like the ones commonly used by guardsmen, from her scabbard.

“Me!? But-” Jexel began to protest before the adventurer swiftly cut him off.

“You’re a born adventurer. I can practically smell it on you. You could be quite the hero someday, and I don’t think you’re the type to just leave an innocent woman to die, are you?” she asked.

“Well no, but...” said Jexel weakly, nervously staring down at his hands. Taking a deep breath, he balled them into fists. “I… I’ll help you.”

The adventurer smiled brightly. “I knew you would! Now come on, we’ve got no time to lose,” she said, shoving the sword into Jexel’s hands as she sprinted off to the catacombs with a speed that defied her age. The young man rushed after her, barely able to keep up.

~***~

As Jexel followed the adventurer down a set of ivory stone stairs in the church graveyard leading into the catacombs, he caught a glimpse of red and blue cloth. He couldn’t make out who it was, but it was almost definitely one of the cultists. He hastily ducked into an alcove just at the bottom of the stairs, and the adventurer silently motioned for him to stay there. The sweat pouring from his palms made the hilt of the sword difficult to firmly grasp, and he hoped that the cultists’ footwear noisily stomping across the tiled stone floor of the catacombs would mask the sound of his breath, heavy as it was from fear and exhaustion.

“Come on, Kayle! We don’t have forever!” a deep, authoritative voice barked. Jexel recognized it from his childhood; the voice of a church acolyte by the name of Reese, but it sounded… different. The Reese he once knew was a kind man, though there was always a subtle melancholy to his voice, as if something deeply troubled him. Now, however, his voice was filled with anger and disdain… the voice of a man who despised the world around him.

A softer, uneasy voice answered. “Look, Reese; are you sure about this? There must be some other way we can-”

“We made a blood pact, Kayle! The three of us are in this all the way,” Reese shouted.

“Yes, but-” Kayle weakly began to protest.

“Do we have to take this idiot?” a woman’s voice questioned.

“Yes! The blood pact! You read the book!” Reese replied.

It was then that Jexel heard another familiar voice; another woman, harmless and terrified. His heart sunk as the sound of Ilona’s voice removed any shadow of a doubt that she truly was in mortal danger. “Let me go! I didn’t make any blood pact with-”

“Shut up!” Reese cut her off. “Kayle, you stay here. Guard the door. You, come on.” Jexel heard the cultists’ footsteps again, gradually growing more distant. Meanwhile, the adventurer discreetly peeked around the corner, keeping an eye on the cultists.

“There’s a guard in the room ahead. Together we should be able to take him out,” she whispered, turning to Jexel.

The young man took a deep breath. “W-what’s the plan of attack?”

“It looks like the cultist has a sling. The best way to deal with someone with a ranged weapon is to get close to them and attack with melee. There’s not much to tell. Just run up and attack,” the old adventurer replied.

“Just… just run up and attack?” Jexel questioned. She made it sound so easy… like he could just casually waltz in and save the day. Who did she think he was? Some sort of world-renowned hero who could shoot lightning out of his sword?

“Don’t worry too much; I’ve handled situations far worse than this,” the adventurer assured him. “I’ll take the lead. Just follow me closely and you’ll be fine.”

“A-alright. I think I’m ready… let’s get this over with…” said Jexel as he gazed uncertainly at the sword in his hand, the dim torchlight of the catacombs and the few rays of fading red sunlight shining down through the stairway producing a golden glint upon its bronze edge.

The adventurer nodded. “Come on, quickly!” she beckoned as she dashed out of the alcove and charged at the cultist. However, just as Jexel prepared to follow her, he heard the thud of a small rock hitting something soft, then the clattering of stone against stone as it fell to the ground. The adventurer let out a pained gasp and limped back around the corner, clutching her side.

“Ah… it looks like I’m too old for this after all. You’ll have to do the rest without me,” she grimaced, sitting slumped against the wall.

Jexel’s eyes widened incredulously. “You can’t possibly expect me to stop three armed cultists all by my-”

“You can beat these cultists on your own… I’m sure of it…” the adventurer interrupted, her voice firm even as it was laced with pain.

“But I’ve never been trained in-” the young man attempted to protest.

“You have to try… for Ilona’s sake. Do it for her… that’s how you know you can win,” the old adventurer insisted.

Jexel reluctantly nodded, struggling to steady the sword as he shivered with fear, his heart pounding relentlessly and his breaths short and rapid. He knew he couldn’t turn back… but how could he possibly hope to take on three Zamorakian cultists? He was no warrior, and now he was all alone…

Or was he? There was something Father Aereck told him once. “A Saradominist is never alone. If you feel you cannot overcome your challenges on your own, offer a prayer to our lord, and the Eternal Choir will answer. They will grant you their strength and wisdom, even when no others may stand with you.”

A prayer… of course! Prayer could give him the strength he needed. There was one he knew that could be helpful in such a situation. He shakily clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. “Let my skin be thickened against those who would do me harm,” Jexel recited.

Almost immediately, there was an answer. A faint echo… gentle and pleasant, yet with an unmistakable firmness to it, like a ghostly wail intertwined with the clang of a hammer against metal… a note in the Eternal Choir, at once seeming to come both from inside his head and from somewhere impossibly distant. The souls of the dead had heard his prayer, and through a single note of their song had granted it. His arms began to steady, his pulse slowed, and his grip on the sword tightened. It was time to face his greatest challenge, and he was not alone.

He took a deep breath, then another, then one more. With the final breath, he leapt out of the alcove and into a room of white stone, the dim torchlight of the catacombs revealing several coffins and urns lining the walls and laid out neatly along the floor. On the far side of the room, flanked by blue banners on each side bearing the star of Saradomin, stood the first of the cultists, a man with ginger hair and a short beard, clad in a blue shirt emblazoned with the symbol of Zamorak and white pants, wielding a sling. This must have been the one he had heard referred to as Kayle earlier.

As Jexel charged straight for the cultist, brandishing his bronze blade, Kayle gave a startled yelp and launched a hastily aimed sling bullet at him, missing him by a wide margin and impacting noisily against the wall. With his foe rapidly closing in, the slinger attempted to flee, but it was too late. Jexel delivered a clumsy slash to the cultist’s side as he turned to run, causing him to stumble. A moment later, Jexel’s pommel slammed into Kayle’s forehead, knocking him to the ground. Defeated, the cultist scrambled into a corner, whimpering, dropping his sling, and clutching his bleeding forehead.

“Are… are you going to kill me?” asked Kayle, shivering with eyes wide as Jexel pointed his sword directly at the symbol of Zamorak on his chest.

Now that he had a clearer view of the cultist’s wounds, they did not actually look very serious. His slash to Kayle’s side had left a visible cut that bled slightly, but in his unskilled hands, the blade had failed to inflict more than a superficial wound. “You better answer some questions for me if you want to live!” Jexel demanded, emboldened by his victory.

“Y-yes, I’ll tell you anything!” the cultist pleaded.

“What were you planning to do down here!?” Jexel interrogated, the fury in his blue eyes piercing the cultist’s gaze.

“I-I don’t really know! Honestly!” Kayle whimpered, looking as if he were about to cry. “Listen… Reese used to be an acolyte at the church here. He discovered something about these catacombs; I don’t know what. Something about how they were built, I think. Caitlin was a student at the Wizards’ Tower. She found something too, in the ruins of the old tower, from back when Zamorakian wizards used it. Caitlin and Reese put what they’d found together. They said they’d discovered a ritual they could perform, something that could give them power over life and death. We made a blood pact, the three of us, so that we’d be in it together, whatever happened. Then we kidnapped that woman, Ilona. Reese knew her when she was younger, said she had always been a pathetic weakling who couldn’t stand up for herself… that she would be easy pickings. He and Caitlin are going down there to perform the ritual. I don’t… I don’t know what it involves.”

“And you just went along with this!?” Jexel questioned, squeezing the hilt of his sword tightly as he seethed with rage.

“T-the blood pact! We’d made a blood pact!” the terrified cultist shot back defensively. “Reese said that bound me to him. It meant I had to do anything he said. He… he said he could curse me.”

Jexel glowered silently at the cultist for several seconds, his sword still trained on Kayle’s heart. It would be so easy… so easy to kill the scum. Just a single stab and it would be done… He looked into the cultist’s frightened eyes. Was the man truly evil, or was he simply a fool who was in way over his head, having bound himself to an evil master without knowing what he was getting into? Did he really deserve to die?

Slowly, he lowered the blade. “Get out of here, you coward! Now!”

The cultist wasted no time in fulfilling Jexel’s demand. Scrambling to his feet and leaving his sling behind, he limped for the exit.

As the young man’s rage subsided, he found apprehension once more taking root within his mind. “That’s one down, but something tells me the other two aren’t going to be that easy…” he whispered to himself. His chest felt as if it had been weighed down by a terrible burden, but at the same time, there was something within that seemed to be helping him carry it, as if the whole world was cheering him on. The protection of the Eternal Choir still remained, and he knew with perfect clarity that he needed to continue on.

Venturing forth, he came upon a gallery with a gap stretching across the center, with railings overlooking the level below. Almost immediately, a bloodthirsty shout echoed off the walls of the catacombs and an air spell came hurtling his way. As he hastily sidestepped the magical strike, he felt a powerful wind blow past him, howling as it impacted the wall behind where he had stood a split second ago. Across the gap was the cultist Caitlin, the hollow golden rhombus that tipped her ornate blood-red staff glowing white as she charged another spell.

He had to act quickly. Hurriedly glancing all around the room to find something he could fight back with, he spotted an open doorway off to the left, presumably leading to a passage around the gap. He sprinted for the doorway, squeezing every last ounce of speed he could out of his body as another air spell whistled through the railings and collided with the winch controlling the door, sending it spinning and causing a portcullis to descend from the doorway, slamming down with a metallic thud just as he made it through. Now there was definitely no turning back; the only way out was through the cultists.

As he emerged from the other end of the passageway, he came face to face with the cultist once more. Now was his chance. His target was within reach. As he charged for the sorceress, she channeled another spell, screeching with unrestrained, sickeningly cruel rage. His blade clashed with the tip of her staff just as she fired her spell, safely throwing its trajectory well away from him. The sorceress countered with an attempt to bludgeon him, taking a wild swing at the young man’s head with her staff. As Jexel ducked under her sloppy swing, he brought his sword forcefully down upon her exposed hands, slicing into her fingers. Caitlin let out a grunt of pain and dropped her staff a moment before she was kneed in the stomach by her adversary and collapsed to the ground.

“What are you waiting for? Finish me!” the cultist shouted, clutching her bleeding fingers.

Jexel’s heart leapt out of his chest and his palms broke into a nervous sweat, alarmed at Caitlin’s demand. “F-finish… you?” he managed to articulate between heavy, exhausted breaths. For a long moment, the cultist stared contemptuously at him with large, piercing brown eyes, enhanced by her magenta eyeshadow. She wore a low-cut crimson, purple, and white knee-length robe with only one sleeve, along with black tights and sandals. Her jade necklace, her golden belt, and the iron tiara that rested atop her unruly medium-length black hair all prominently displayed the symbol of Zamorak.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Do it, you useless pawn of Saradomin!” she dared.

“I-I…” Jexel attempted to respond, shivering with hesitation. She was a monster… she deserved to die… but for some reason, he couldn’t do it. The thought of killing her… of truly ending another human life... was unbearable.

“Fool! Idiot! Weakling!” she laughed. “So be it! If you will not kill me, then die!” Retrieving her staff and struggling to her feet, she readied another swing.

Then… it happened. Closing his eyes tightly, he buried his blade in her chest all the way up to the hilt. He heard the sickening squelch of flesh being pierced and felt the warm wetness of blood trickling onto his hand as she moaned in anguish. A moment later, he heard the clatter of the cultist’s staff hitting the floor and for what seemed like forever, he simply stood there, his eyes firmly shut as blood continued to flow onto his sword hand and Caitlin weakly gasped for breath. Finally, she fell silent, and he heard a thud. When he opened his eyes, she laid lifeless on the floor, her robes soaked with blood. Slowly raising his sword into his field of vision, he saw that it too, and the hand that held it, were covered in blood, some of which had splattered onto his sleeve. He stared open-mouthed at Caitlin’s corpse, shivering uncontrollably and feeling nothing except the pounding of his heart and an overpowering nausea.

It was almost half a minute before some semblance of clarity began to return to his mind. “I have to… I have to…” he trailed off weakly.

No. He needed to be strong. He wiped his blood-soaked hand on his vest, tightened his grip on his sword, and stood up straighter. “I have to see this through to the end. Ilona is counting on me,” he finally said to himself, his voice imbued with a renewed courage as he descended the steps behind Caitlin and pressed on into the lower level of the catacombs.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he looked around to find a surprisingly spacious hallway supported by several ornate pillars. Running down the center of the hallway was a stone grating, beneath which he could see a channel of water flowing towards a doorway at the far end of the hall, flanked by two shallow pools bordered by expertly chiselled stone. The channel seemed to flow to and from nowhere, and the water in each of the small pools, despite being still and presumably rarely-visited, seemed perfectly clean. He surmised that they must have been maintained by permanent water spells, the sort of thing that Ilona would be fascinated with had she been there under better circumstances…

There was no time to sightsee for him either, as he was soon reminded by the voice of Reese coming from beyond the doorway. “The potion is complete. Where are they? The whole group should be present.”

Entering the doorway, he found himself in a small room containing an ominous coffin with a huge ruby set in its center. The final cultist stood beside it: a bald man with a face that he seemed to have deliberately scarred, dressed in black from head to toe, his tunic adorned with rubies and reinforced with sections of crimson-dyed hard leather armor, one of which bore the symbol of Zamorak. In his gloved hand, he held a vial of blue liquid. Jexel spotted Ilona as well, huddling in a corner with her arms tied behind her back. Her purple eyes lit up as she saw him.

“Who are you? What are you doing here!?” Reese demanded, setting the potion on top of the coffin and unsheathing two identical black-bladed shortswords, their guards shaped like the horns of Zamorak.

“Jex!” Ilona cried out with hope.

“Don’t worry, Ilona! I’m here to rescue you!” Jexel assured her.

“Thank Saradomin! He’s insane! He’s going to kill me!” she replied.

“Maybe you can take her place as the sacrifice, adventurer! Stand and fight!” Reese shouted, raising his swords into an aggressive combat stance.

“I’m not an adventurer, actually, but if you want a fight, you’ve got one. The power of prayer gives me strength!” Jexel replied, feeling the power of the Eternal Choir coursing through his body, faint though it was.

“The blood pact will prevail!” he bellowed as he charged at Jexel, spinning his swords in a flashy, inefficient manner. Though he left himself wide open in the process, the intimidating display caused Jexel to jump back from his adversary, keeping his sword carefully pointed at the cultist’s heart. Roaring with primal fury, Reese flailed his twin blades wildly in Jexel’s direction as the young man struggled to maintain a safe distance, nervously parrying each blow that came too close and taking care not to wander too close to Ilona, lest a stray slash injure her. Every time he dodged a blow or parried his opponent’s slashes, however, his body seemed to move with a subtle grace, his survival instincts augmented by the power of his prayer.

Even so, he knew he could not just keep defending forever. He had to close in eventually, but what could he do? His opponent’s fighting style was chaotic and brutish, and he would be cut to ribbons instantly if he got in too close. Scrutinizing Reese’s fighting style, however, if it could even be called a style, he noted that the cultist was all offense, and was leaving his hands exposed with every swing and thrust. As the swordsman took an especially telegraphed lunge at him, he seized his opportunity, delivering a quick cut to Reese’s wrist. Though he struck at a poor angle and failed to cut very deeply, the impact of the blow was enough to make the cultist drop one of his swords and stagger back in pain. While the cultist was still reeling from the first blow, Jexel struck at his other hand, this time making a better cut that severed one of the cultist’s fingers and caused him to drop his other sword. Finally, he swung his blade again, aiming at Reese’s throat this time and averting his gaze as he did so. He heard the tearing of flesh and a gargled scream, and when he looked back, Reese’s dead body was slumped limply against the coffin, blood pouring from the gash that stretched across his neck.

For a moment, he just stood there, the sound of his heavy, exhausted breaths all that filled the silence of the catacombs. He felt the power of prayer leave his body, its purpose fulfilled, and he offered a relieved sigh. It was over. He had won. Ilona was safe.

Suddenly, however, there was a rumbling throughout the catacombs. A faintly red glow left Reese’s body, drawn to the ruby adorning the coffin in the center of the room, as if the gem was siphoning his soul. The ruby began to glow brighter and brighter as it drew more energy from the fallen cultist, and Jexel had to look away to shield his eyes from the intensity of the light. He heard the crumbling of stone as the ruby’s light faded, and when he looked back, the coffin had been reduced to shattered fragments, revealing a staircase beneath it, its steps covered in the spilled remains of Reese’s potion and the stench of rotting flesh emanating from below. The cultist’s flesh had crumbled to dust, his clothing now occupied by only a skeleton. He was not quite sure what just happened, but it must have been the ritual Kayle mentioned, and it appalled him to think about how what happened to the cultist’s body was meant for Ilona.

“I knew you could do it, Jex,” said Ilona, her weary eyes filled with admiration as she looked upon her friend and savior.

“Is that so? I sure didn’t!” Jexel chuckled as he laid his sword on the floor and untied the ropes that bound her.

As soon as her arms were free, the aspiring mage pulled him into a tight embrace. “I thought I was going to die down here until you came along. You’re… you’re a true hero, Jex. You saved me.”

“Someone had to come to your rescue,” Jexel replied, smirking proudly at the aspiring mage as she smiled back at him gratefully.

A moment later, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from somewhere above and behind him. Turning to face the source, he saw the old adventurer descending a flight of stairs that was not there before, presumably leading back to the upper level of the catacombs. She walked with a steady confidence, seemingly completely unbothered by the injury that had previously incapacitated her. “Well, it looks like you have prevailed,” she said with a sly smile as she retrieved Jexel’s sword. “Now let’s get back to the surface.” She beckoned to the two friends and once again ascended the stairs. Not needing to be told twice, Jexel and Ilona followed.

~***~

Never in his life had the evening air smelled so sweet. The stifling confines and necrotic air of the catacombs had been replaced with the smell of trees and the river, and an open sky stretched above him, the stars and the full moon covering Lumbridge in a faint turquoise light.

“P-pardon me, I don’t believe we’ve met, miss… missus… umm…” said Ilona to the adventurer, nervously fidgeting with her hands.

“Just call me Xenia. I was the one who led this young hero to you. I knew there was something about him… it seems I was right, as usual.” The old adventurer gave a confident smirk, holding out her hand.

“Oh, I-I’m Ilona. Ilona Runeweaver. It’s nice to meet you, Xenia!” said Ilona, smiling emphatically as she awkwardly shook the adventurer’s hand.

Jexel’s ears perked up at the way Xenia had described him. “You really think I’m a hero?”

“Indeed, you’re a hero. You’re exactly the sort of person the world needs. I’m glad I met you,” the old adventurer replied.

“She’s not wrong. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you, Jex. I owe my life to you, I really do,” Ilona added. “I-if you’ll pardon me though, I think I should be heading home. It’s been a long day, and my parents will be wondering where I am. Thank you so much, Jex. I’ll never forget what you did for me today.”

“Don’t mention it, Ilona. I only wanted to do what was right,” her friend responded.

As Ilona left for home, waving to her friend and savior, Jexel couldn’t help but feel like something was off about Xenia. Mere minutes ago, she had been too injured to fight, and now she seemed completely fine. “You weren’t really wounded, were you?” he asked.

“Very perceptive, my young hero,” she praised, once again giving a sly smile. “I was wounded, but not as badly as I looked. I took the opportunity to see how you would fare.”

Jexel glared critically at her. “You risked our lives for the sake of a test?”

“I was prepared to step in if you were unable to defeat the cultists on your own, but I won’t always be that ready,” she explained. “That's why I had to do this. The world needs heroes. I was a hero, once, but I'm not getting any younger. I need to make sure the new generation has its own heroes.”

There she was using that word again: hero. “You seriously think I could be one of those heroes? I mean, I suppose I did take down those cultists, but...”

“I’m sure of it. I know you can become a great adventurer someday if you simply work up the courage to look beyond the narrow confines of Lumbridge. Today you saved a woman. Tomorrow you could save everyone,” she answered.

If she had told him that yesterday, he would have thought she had had a little too much to drink, but now, there was a certain allure to the prospect of becoming an adventurer. His adventure in the catacombs had been terrifying, no doubt, but there was something about it… as if he was right where he belonged. He was reminded of something Father Aereck once said. “It is the way of Saradomin that all things are connected. There is a natural order to the world; a place where we all belong. It is for this reason that we must seek to help and guide others, for they all share a link with us. Find your place within the Natural Order and you will finally feel fulfilled. No more conflict. No more struggle. It is true enlightenment and true freedom. A perfect harmony between all things. This is Saradomin’s wisdom.” Was this what it felt like to find his place within the Natural Order? Was he born to be an adventurer? If so, where should he go from here?

“What should I do now?” asked Jexel.

“Reese managed to complete the ritual with his own death. He's opened the staircase to the nest of undead creatures in the lower level of the catacombs,” she replied. “Without a necromancer to control them, the creatures won't leave the tomb. I'll warn Father Aereck not to let people go down there. If you want to, you can venture into the tomb and fight the creatures to practice your combat skills.”

“Umm… I think I’ll pass on that,” said Jexel nervously, giving the old adventurer an incredulous look.

Xenia nodded. “Yes, I suppose that may be a bit much. Alternatively, if you explore the world, I'm sure you'll find other people in need of help. There are plenty of quests out there for a brave adventurer, and they come in all shapes and sizes.”

Jexel raised a hand to his chin, pondering the adventurer’s words. The idea of wandering the world as an adventurer seemed crazy. There would be dangers, certainly, and he would have to give up the comforts of home, but it was a life that he had always admired, and now he had an opportunity to become what he had always heard about in stories… It was tempting, certainly. “I’ll have to think about this, but I’ll certainly keep your advice in mind,” he finally replied. “For now though, I should head home. That whole thing in the catacombs took a lot out of me, as I’m sure you can understand. Besides, it might be a good idea to talk this over with my mother.”

As if on cue, he heard a familiar voice coming from the direction of the river. “Jexel!” Lauren called, running towards him through the cobbled streets, the golden light of torches shining through windows flashing over her.

“I’m here, mother,” he called back, waving to her.

Her eyes widened as she approached. “By Saradomin! Is that blood? What happened!?”

“Don’t worry, your son is fine,” Xenia replied. “In fact, he’s more than fine. Your son is a hero, Mrs…”

“Luminel. Lauren Luminel.” she said as she carelessly shook the adventurer’s hand, impatient to get to the point. “What happened? Why is there blood on my son’s shirt? What do you mean he’s a hero?”

“My name is Xenia,” the adventurer replied. “I’m an adventurer from the Legends’ Guild. Let me ask you something: are you familiar with Ilona Runeweaver?”

“Of course. She’s Jexel’s best friend. The two of them are practically inseparable. Did something happen to her? She’s not injured, is she?” asked Lauren.

“She’s quite alright, and we have your son to thank for that,” said Xenia, smiling proudly. “She was kidnapped by a trio of Zamorakian cultists who planned to use her as a sacrifice in their ritual. I lent Jexel my sword, and with it, he bravely confronted the cultists in battle and rescued Ilona from-”

“You did what!?” Lauren interrupted, her face twisting into a furious scowl. “You sent my son to confront a dangerous cult? Are you out of your mind!?”

“I understand your concerns, Mrs. Luminel,” the adventurer calmly replied. “But your son’s intervention saved Ilona’s life. Surely-”

“You’re an adventurer! A guild adventurer! Why didn’t you do it yourself!? You could have gotten him killed!” Lauren demanded, jabbing a finger an inch away from Xenia’s throat and shivering with rage. Jexel’s jaw dropped as he stared at his mother. It certainly wasn’t like her to raise her voice...

“Your son could be an adventurer too someday,” argued the old adventurer. “I needed to test his-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” Lauren shouted, her hands tightly clenching into fists. “You have the nerve to risk my son’s life for your… your little experiments!? He’s not an adventurer, he never will be an adventurer, and if you come anywhere near him again, your adventuring days will soon be over!”

“Mrs. Luminel, I urge you to-”

“Shut up! Crawl back to wherever the Zamorak you came from and leave us alone! My son is not going to follow you on your suicidal adventures, you hear me!? Get away from him! GET AWAY!” she screamed, violently shoving the old adventurer.

Xenia allowed herself to be pushed back, just barely managing to suppress the defensive instinct of grabbing Lauren’s arms that her training had instilled in her. There was a long, awkward pause as the two women just stood there, and Jexel could feel his heart pounding once again. He couldn’t remember ever hearing his mother curse like that, and he certainly had never seen her resort to physical violence.

“Fine, fine,” said Xenia, finally breaking the silence. She gave Jexel a sly wink as she calmly walked away, Lauren eyeing her suspiciously until she disappeared around the corner of a hatchet shop.

“Jexel, don’t you ever do anything like that ever again. You should have called the guards and let them deal with the situation. You could have been killed…” said Lauren, a sadness creeping into her voice, as if she recalled a painful memory.

“But mother, she-”

“Don’t listen to her,” Lauren urged. “Your place is at the tower. You have no business meddling in the affairs of adventurers, especially charlatans like that who are afraid to fight their own battles. Now come on home; it’s time for dinner.”

~***~

“Jexel sweetheart, wake up,” he heard as he drearily opened his eyes, greeted with the sight of his mother hovering over him and the smell of crayfish coming from the kitchen. Even now, several days after his adventure in the catacombs, there was a lingering echo in his mind, like the song of a siren… a call to adventure. A call to travel the world and right its wrongs. He spent each night pondering those thoughts, and it was cutting into his sleep. To make matters worse, each time he recalled the adventure in the catacombs, he found himself feeling slightly nauseated for some reason that he was not entirely sure of. He had considered that it might be guilt, but how was that possible? Why should he feel guilty for saving someone?

Stretching his arms, he crawled out of the sky-blue sheets of his bed and rose to his feet. “Good morning, mother,” he responded.

“Do you know what day it is?” Lauren asked.

The young man’s alertness returned to him. He had almost forgotten. “Today is the day I leave for the tower.”

“Indeed!” his mother responded, smiling proudly. “I made breakfast for you, sweetheart. It only seemed right to make your favorite dish as a farewell gift.”

“Mother, you really didn’t have to!” said Jexel gratefully as Lauren led him into the dining room.

As he seated himself at the table, Lauren retrieved two bowls of freshly prepared crayfish and potato soup from the kitchen, seasoned with doogle leaves. He inhaled its lovely scent and began gobbling up spoonfuls of the soup as his mother took a seat opposite his.

“I’m so proud of you, Jexel. To think that my son is going to study at the most prestigious institute of magic in history… I hope you understand just what this means. You’ve been given a great honor,” said Lauren, though despite her words, she looked utterly joyless, as if something troubled her.

“It is indeed an honor,” he replied. “But mother, are you ok? You look like something’s bothering you.”

“Well, I am going to miss you, but I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she assured him. “The tower really is where you belong, and I am incredibly thankful that you’ve been given this opportunity.”

Jexel silently nodded. It was strange to think that less than a week ago, he would have never doubted that the tower was indeed where he belonged, but now, he was not so sure. That call to adventure simply refused to go away.

“Jexel?” Lauren called, finally breaking the silence.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m alright,” he said. “It’s just that I have a lot on my mind, and I am going to miss you too.”

“I understand, sweetheart,” she replied. “You’ll do just fine though, I’m sure of it!”

The young man nodded again, and the two finished the rest of their breakfast in silence. “If you’ll excuse me, mother, I should probably check my travelling kit to make sure I haven’t forgotten to pack anything,” said Jexel as he rose from his seat and headed to his room.

He pulled the backpack out from under his bed, and as soon as he opened it, he was greeted with an unexpected sight. Everything seemed to be in order, but there was one additional item that he definitely had not put there. In his backpack, resting neatly in its scabbard atop his travelling supplies, was the bronze shortsword that Xenia had lent him in the catacombs. Tied around its guard was a note: ‘Dear Jexel, here’s something for the road! May it serve you well in your adventures. Yours truly, Xenia.’

“Everything seems to be in order,” he said to his mother as he emerged from his room. “Well, I guess this is goodbye…”

“Indeed…” Lauren replied, a sadness hanging in her voice as she pulled him into a warm embrace. “Please try to write to me when you have the time. I would like to keep up with how you’re doing at the tower…”

“I’ll see what I can do…” said Jexel, struggling to hold back his tears. He knew she would not approve of what he was planning, but it was something he needed to do.

“Goodbye, Jexel. I love you with all my heart,” she said with a tearful smile.

“Goodbye, mother… I’ll miss you dearly.” he replied as he reluctantly headed for the door.

~***~

“Ahh, Jex! There you are!” said Ilona, overflowing with excitement as she spotted his approach. “Today’s the day! It’s time for us to head to the tower. I can hardly wait to get started!”

Jexel stood in silence for several seconds. The time had come for him to decide, once and for all, the course of his future. His decision was not an easy one, certainly, but he had come to the conclusion that it was the right one. He only hoped Ilona would understand.

“I’m not going to the tower,” he finally replied.

Ilona gave him a look that was as if he had just told her law runes tasted absolutely delicious. “What?”

“It’s hard to explain…” said Jexel. “...but that whole ordeal in the catacombs made me realize something. I was terrified, don’t get me wrong, but it felt like I was right where I belonged… that I was doing what I was born to do. You remember what Father Aereck said about the Natural Order, right?”

Ilona nodded. “Are you saying you felt like you were… in tune with the Natural Order?”

“I think so, yes,” Jexel replied. “My place in the Natural Order seems so much clearer than it ever has before. I want to travel the world and solve all the problems I can find. I want to be an adventurer. There must be plenty of people out there who need help, and I could help them… I could make the world a better place.”

“I don’t want to say you shouldn’t do this, Jex, but are you sure about this? This is a serious decision. You have thought this through, haven’t you?” Ilona asked worriedly.

“I’m sure,” said Jexel. “I have thought about it at length, and this really is what I want to do. I know it’s going to be difficult, but there’s so much good I can do for people. Isn’t that worth it? I can follow in the footsteps of the saints. I can be the sword of the righteous and the shield of the defenseless.”

“I must admit, I was really looking forward to studying at the tower with you…” Ilona replied, hanging her head low. “But if this is what you really want to do, then I don’t want to stop you from following your heart. Will you at least visit me in the tower, though?”

Jexel smiled at the aspiring mage. “Ilona, I want to thank you for being so supportive and understanding of me. You really are a good friend…”

“Hey, you saved my life. I owe you at least that much!” she replied, returning his smile.

“As for visiting you in the tower, I don’t see why I couldn’t drop by sometime!” Jexel added.

Ilona nodded contentedly. “I look forward to it! Oh, but I should get going! It’s a long way to the tower, and it would be best if I could reach Draynor before nightfall! Goodbye, Jex! I wish you luck on your adventures!” she said, waving to him as she walked away, her voice once again brimming with excitement.

Jexel waved back to his friend. “Bye, Ilona! You’re going to be a great apprentice!”

As Ilona departed, the young adventurer found himself gazing towards the horizon. Behind him was Lumbridge, quiet and peaceful as it had always been, and before him was a vast expanse of land; green pastures and scattered trees stretching as far as the eye could see. He knew that somewhere out there, beyond his sight, there was more. Somewhere out there was the ivory castle of the White Knights, the armor of its warriors shimmering in the sunlight. Somewhere out there was the library of Varrock, filled with shelves upon shelves of ancient lore. Somewhere out there was the golden city of Menaphos, the natural splendor of White Wolf Mountain… perhaps even the fabled elven forest of Isafdar. An entire world to explore.

“I suppose I should probably get started,” he said to himself. “The world awaits me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is! I've finally completed my first RuneScape fanfic! (Well, my first serious fanfic, anyway. Saradomins Downfall doesn't count. :P)
> 
> I had quite a lot of fun writing this story, even if it was quite a challenge for me. Although it is based on a canon quest, I felt it was necessary to modify the story a little, as in canon, the player character and Ilona do not know each other prior to the events of the quest, and the player character is obviously a lot calmer and more experienced. As Jexel was not yet an adventurer and had never before killed anyone at this point, it wouldn't have made a whole lot of sense if he handled the situation without at least some fear and reluctance. I do hope that the changes I've made to canon will serve to enhance the story rather than diminish it.
> 
> I was a bit surprised by how long this turned out to be, but there was just so much that was begging to be explored and fleshed out. I see fanfic as a way of fleshing out characters, locations, and aspects of the lore that don't get a whole lot of screen time in-game, and this was no exception.
> 
> I welcome all feedback, both positive and negative, as long as it's constructive and respectful. I hope you've enjoyed reading this story, and if you have, stay tuned for more! We're just getting started here.


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